


Insigne Bellicae Laudis

by managerie



Series: Asylum [3]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-07-26 07:52:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7566121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/managerie/pseuds/managerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span><span>Third in the </span> <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/series/493558"> <span>Asylum Universe Series</span> </a> <span>. Takes place the night following the events in </span> <span><b><i>Nomen Usoris</i></b>. </span> <span>Please read the first two installments in order to understand this sequel properly.</span> </span>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mettle

~ * ~

Harold sometimes got hurt on a case. It didn’t happen often, but for Reese, Shaw, and Earnest once was too many. When they got multiple Numbers or the agents were trapped, Harold refused to stay in the library like they had asked, (more like demanded) on more than one occasion.

Shaw would always be spitting fire when it happened, whether or not Finch got hurt. Earnest would be twittering away in John's ear. Reese would be quiet; a pot just on the cusp of boiling that would overflow later when they were alone. Most times the injury was a bruise or a cut. So far it had never been something that required hospitalization or a doctor’s care _thank Earnest_.

However, on this case, Harold got a back full of BB pellets. Between his many layers of tweed and wool most of the pellets did no more damage than a few well sewn patches could fix for the homeless person who would be receiving the donated suit. However, the impact had knocked the wind out of him. He had fallen with both Shaw and Reese unaware it was a BB gun, both assuming their Handler was dead or fatally wounded.

The scene became a bloodbath. No more kneecaps were targeted as both agents hurried to Harold’s side. His pulse was strong and he was catching his breath. John carried him to the car while Shaw and Bear cleared a path. Harold was deposited in the backseat with Bear in the floorboard, the canine's head next to Harold’s as if the dog needed to count his master’s breaths.

Reese kept checking the rear window for followers and handling his ear piece for instructions from Earnest who while not in _God Mode_ per se did occasionally send direct messages to Auxiliary Admin Reese while Shaw took every turn at the maximum speed. The tires of this particular car would need to be recalibrated from the harsh treatment Shaw was giving them. However, soon enough they were making their winding way to the safehouse with the best medical equipment.

If Harold had the breath for it, he would have told them he was fine and just needed a few ice packs for his back. As it was, he just lolled in the back resting.

Once the car was parked, Reese attempted to carry Harold once again. Finch was recovered enough to refuse. With Bear, he limped to the elevators, his overcoat draped over his shoulders concealing the holes. Shaw and Reese made their way to his side. They checked the elevator before letting Harold enter. He rolled his eyes, but let them do what they needed to feel secure. Bear was calming down now that Harold was ambulatory.

The apartment's alarms were all set and nothing looked out of place; still Harold had to stand back while John covered Sameen who disarmed the system and opened the door, guns drawn. It was ridiculous to Finch, but he endured it for their benefit.

Once they were all in the apartment and John gave the all-clear, Harold handed the leash to Reese going straight to the master bedroom he shared with John. Harold attempted to remove his jacket with little success. The door opened and shut behind him. Assuming it was John, Harold sighed, “I know you want to yell at me, but could you help me undress first?”

“I’m a multitasker, Finch.” Sameen Shaw’s voice echoed in the bedroom causing Harold to spin around too quickly. Shaw stepped forward to help the older man keep his balance and continued, “I can do both.”

Harold composed himself and pulled away. “Thank you Ms. Shaw, but I don’t require your expertise. A few bruises and a ruined suit are all that has transpired.”

Shaw frowned, “Well I need to see if any of those pellets got caught in your skin and your neck is probably screaming. Need to make sure your pins haven’t been shifted by the high impact of metal BB’s.”

She stepped forward with a determined air, pulling at Harold’s jacket, spinning him around to get the article of clothing off his shoulders, but Harold resisted. “Sameen! John can help me undress. He can then assess the situation. I assure you all I need is rest and ice packs on my back.”

Shaw pulled the ruined jacket off then placed her hands on her hips. “Harold, I’m not going to molest you. I need to check your injuries. This isn’t some smooth seduction. Just let me check.”

Harold stepped back, almost against the wall, but he stopped before he smacked his injured back into the hard surface. “Ms. Shaw—”

“Shaw,” John’s raspy voice finally drifted into the conversation. “I can check Harold over, if he needs medical attention we’ll call for you.”

Shaw turned to Reese. “Just what is the big deal? Harold’s injured, I’m the doctor.”

John pulled her aside, escorting her out of the room. “Harold doesn’t like anyone seeing his back. It’s not personal. He’s just not comfortable with it. He even refuses to let nurses see him without a shirt.” John shrugged then turned to go back inside. He shut the door to their bedroom with a finality that rankled Sameen’s hackles.

~ * ~


	2. Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will John yell at Harold now that they are alone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of Harold's injuries and his recovery.

~ * ~

Harold was disappointed in himself. He sighed, “I know Ms. Shaw is probably angered by my actions. I'm just not sure how to explain it to her without…”

John slipped Harold's tie from around his neck carefully. “Since you're just not the kind of person who explains themselves especially when it comes to something personal like your scars, do you want me to talk to her?”

Harold looked up hopefully at John. “Would you? You understand Sameen better than I and you comprehend my peculiarities better than most people. If you could, I don't mind her knowing the whole story. It's just that remembering…”

John started on the buttons of Harold's vest a little worried that Finch was unable to finish his thoughts. “I understand. I know what it's like to have flashbacks about traumatic events. You’re not one to show extreme emotions in front of most people. I don't mind telling her what happened. I can explain to her why you just don't want someone to see your scars, besides me of course.”

Harold tipped onto his toes to kiss John. “Thank you, Mr. Reese. I know I'm difficult, but I'm not sure at this point if I could change who I am.”

John cradled Harold's face between his large hands. “I wouldn't want you to change. I love who you are and how you are, just as you love who I am and how I am.”

They kissed briefly until Harold tried to stifle a groan of pain. John stood back, undressed Harold from the waist up, and turned him around to check over his injuries.

“Finch.” John breathed the name as if he were seeing a horror show instead of simple bruises blooming on Harold’s back.

Harold shrugged then thought better of it. “I know. I shouldn't have been anywhere near that field; not when a firefight could have happened, but your comms didn’t work when you were in the tunnels. I couldn’t warn you that there was an ambush waiting for you topside. I needed to get there to secure an exit route.”

Harold turned to face John. The older man held up his hand to stop whatever Reese was about to say. “I know. I’m not an agent. But by God John, if I can’t physically be there in time for our Numbers I can at least make an attempt to be some kind of backup for you and Sameen.”

Harold sat down on the bed while John gathered some ice packs, wrapping them in a towel. Harold gladly lounged on the mattress as John placed the packs on the worst of the bruising.

John shook his head. “The Machine— Earnest needs you. You agreed.”

Harold voice was muffled as he said, “I agreed that Earnest needs me in the world to work on his programming. I concurred with you that I was the only one capable of assisting him in his new freed state. I even reluctantly agreed that Earnest could now monitor my well being as if it were his own. Something I strenuously objected to as you might recall, but you and Earnest insisted. However, I refuse to think of you or Ms. Shaw as any less essential or irreplaceable. You are not. Earnest needs you both as much as he needs me.”

John knew this argument would never be resolved. They loved each other and their Mission too much to ever sit on their hands when someone was in trouble. It was how they got together. It just was a damn nuisance sometimes.

John sighed while sitting on the other side of the bed. He watched Harold’s breathing even out into a deep sleep thanks to some powerful pills. The bruises would be turning darker until they were livid reminders of how far Harold would go for them.

Slowly, John traced along Harold’s scars with a hand lightly on his husband’s back, up to his fragile neck. The scars had been an issue with them when they first started to be intimate. Harold would keep his undershirt on during even the most intense lovemaking.

His bad leg, which John now carefully massaged, not waking Harold, was missing a large chunk of muscle. Some of the shrapnel from the bomb was still embedded into Harold's flesh.

His limp was awkward, the ankle was fine, but the leg itself couldn’t support Harold's full weight. When he was in a hurry, Harold would circle the bad leg around wildly. It was hell on his hips and back.

At the time of the incident, Finch had needed to get to Ingram’s funeral and start looking for a partner to assist him in the Mission. John has tried to convince him to have the new surgery. Unfortunately, Harold was stubborn on this point as well. He worried that he would be unable to function on cases. What would happened if they needed to hack into something and Harold was drugged to the gills? John had attempted to suggest Leon, but Finch had been incensed. Leon couldn’t be trusted and didn’t have the skills apparently.

John’s need to protect warred with his desire to comply with whatever his loved ones wanted. John’s habit with romance was to completely dedicate himself to the other’s happiness, foregoing John’s own needs and wants.

In the beginning with Harold, John had to learn to argue with Finch at first because usually John just acquiesced to whatever his lovers were demanding. Harold had hated thinking John was just going along with everything. Harold went so far as to break up, assuming that Reese was just there to please him. That had been a bad few days.

Worse, Harold had the impression John was attempting to repay a debt. Harold didn't want gratitude or a kept boy. He wanted a true partner in all things.

With Grace, Harold had allowed himself to just lead her by the hand through their relationship, never letting her see any truth, only what Harold presented to her. Looking back, Harold was appalled at his behavior with Grace.

Wanting to learn from his mistakes, Harold insisted that John know everything about Harold’s past. It was revealed that Finch and Ingram had been lovers for decades. Nathan had known about the treason charge, but that was all. John was the only one to know every last detail, with the minor exception of Harold’s real last name.

When asked, Harold said that if John knew his last name then John might do something sweet, but reckless like send flowers to his father’s grave. Which would have the Secret Service at their door immediately. Harold was of course right.

It had been a painful process; Harold learning to share and John learning to speak up for himself. They tried hard everyday to keep this relationship their priority. It mingled their personal and professional lives, but that couldn't be helped. This wasn’t a job, it was a purpose. As such, the Mission was as much a part of who they were as Harold's glasses or John’s guns; intricately linked and never to be unraveled.

~ * ~


	3. Dignity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reese speaks with Shaw.

~ * ~

John eventually went out to check on Shaw, leaving Harold to sleep off the pain meds he took when they got home. Shaw was quietly fuming and cleaning a gun. John took out the Glock he used during the firefight and started stripping it down to clean and oil each part.

Casually, he said to Shaw, “It's not about you. I hope you understand that. Harold trusts you.”

Shaw chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah right. He trusts me so much that he won't even let me check over his injuries even though I'm the only one here with medical training.”

John didn't look at her. He kept his eyes on his weapon. He thought about how to explain. He knew that the emotional side of Harold’s reaction just wouldn’t connect with Shaw. So he needed to come at the situation from a soldier's point-of-view.

John thought about his own scars. Some he got protecting other people. Some he received in the line of duty. Some came to him while following orders that he should have questioned.

John understood that some scars were embarrassing. Some scars had a great story behind them. Some scars were self-deprecating. Then there were those scars that just brought shame.

For Harold, his scars from the shrapnel that riddled his back and still took its toll on him everyday, that shrapnel from the bomb’s explosion that still required him to limp instead of walk, that took away his ability to run, his ability to turn his head, destroyed his life, killed Nathan, and forced him to leave Grace: those scars were shameful for Harold. How could John explain shame to Shaw? Did she even experience shame?

“Listen.” John decided to just make a start. “First of all, Harold is a very private person.”

Shaw snorted rudely, but John ignored her. “He doesn't like anyone seeing him less than perfect. You've seen that yourself.”

John smirked fondly thinking about Harold’s manner of dress. “His immaculate suits, the perfect vest, the pocket square that has been ironed and starched exactly how Harold wants it. He presents himself to the world in an exacting manner. You know this.”

John used the bore brush to scrub the barrel carefully. “You know his appearance is important to him. Not being seen less than perfect, not having someone think of him as damaged or crippled; that's part of this, but another part of it is that Harold doesn't want to have to tell the story of how he got those scars.”

Shaw snorted. “I’m not gonna ask.”

“I know but…” John took a deep breath. “When you see them you’re going to be curious. Harold is still too emotionally attached to them. How he got them, that story still haunts him. He doesn’t want to relive it.”

Shaw slammed the clip into the butt of the handle with more force than necessary. “I know about PTSD, Reese. I know about Harold’s peculiarities. He’s probably on the Autism spectrum. I know all this and yet he can’t bear to even show me something that medically I need to know!”

John blinked rapidly a few times, thinking about Harold and Autism. It was a new thought. Certainly Harold had his atypical nature, but Autism? Wouldn’t he have been tested?

Of course not. He was born in the 50’s in a rural area. He would have just been seen as as an odd duck, nothing more. At last, John shook his head to clear it. “This isn’t logical, Shaw. This is—”

Their comms came on, interrupting whatever John was going to say. A male British voice spoke to them both. “Perhaps I could assist?”

Shaw stood up fast, gun out looking for the source of the voice. John planted his face in his right hand. His yoga had been postponed this morning so he wasn’t really centered enough for this shit.

He lifted his head. “Shaw, it’s Earnest.”

She looked at him with deep suspicion.

John gestured to his ear, “The, The Machine took the name Earnest and now uses this voice to communicate with us when our lives might be in danger.”

Shaw dropped her gun hand. “What the hell?”

Earnest, ever helpful piped in, “I am not an open system. It would be a gross violation of civil rights for you to see what I see. However, I am necessary for the continuation of human life. Relevant Numbers are handled by the government. Sometimes they kill people in my name which is something I am trying to prevent, but the Irrelevant Numbers come through you. You are the agents I use to save lives. So you are an extension of The Machine.”

Shaw and Reese looked at each other with open mouths, but the voice in their ears kept going. “Father programmed The Machine to protect itself as well as humanity. So when you are in danger of no longer being able to assist me, I will contact you directly to help. Computerized voices are jarring for human ears and I want to be more than an object. So this is the voice I have chosen.”

John scratched his forehead. “Got that. But we aren’t in danger.”

Earnest countered, “The Mission is in danger. The Team, my agents need to work together in high stress situations. Interpersonal issues must be resolved immediately lest an agent become compromised or distracted. Primary Asset Shaw is important to The Mission. Primary Asset Shaw has a problem with Father. This disagreement could result in tension within the Team. Therefore, it is proper that I speak.”

Shaw’s left eye twitched as she asked, “Father?”

John sighed longsufferingly. “Harold is Father. I’m Auxiliary Admin Reese, you’re Primary Asset Shaw.”

Shaw smiled devilishly as she sat. “Just to be clear, Harold doesn’t have any delusions of becoming Iron-man anytime soon right?”

John was taken aback. “No. What makes you think?”

“Well, we have a freaking British accented AI.” Shaw pointed out. “Earnest is Jarvis, Reese.”

John snorted. “I guess so.”

A horrible thought struck him just then. He pointed a long index finger at Shaw accusedly. “We’re not letting Harold get a super suit. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Shaw and Earnest said together

Shaw made sly eye contact with John as he finished cleaning his weapon. She was up to something. “So Earnest is allowed to tell me things that will help me work the Irrelevants list?”

John was about to answer when once again his step-child chimed in, “I can give you Father’s medical records.”

~ * ~


	4. Gallantry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaw gets several clues.

~ * ~

Shaw went to her room and reviewed the folder on her laptop over what was left of the night: pouring over X-Rays, medical charts, doctor’s notes, and prescribed medicine lists deep into morning. She didn’t even sleep. The file wasn’t huge. It only contained the last five years of information.

She did note that she was going to have to insist Finch do PT every morning regardless of a Number. Nights spent falling asleep at his desk were over if she had anything to say about it.

Finch had to be in pain all the time, refusing to use his heavy medicine in order to be at peak performance for Reese and Shaw. However, Shaw spent most of this night trying to figure out where the hell Finch could have received shrapnel wounds.

Every entry on his recent injuries suggested a bomb, one that Harold had been very close, but not right next to it. His aversions to guns, his height, his paranoia, and intelligence, not to mention his wealth were heavy indicators that Harold had never been in the service. Harold wasn’t nor had ever been in the military. Civilians rarely came into contact with explosives in the US.

The scars were too new to be from 9/11 and too old to be from an incident of less than three years. Shaw carefully researched all the bombings in the US for the last five years. She started with New York City and hit pay dirt about an hour later. The ferry explosion of September, 2010. The list of victims included an entry for a _Harold Martin_. The name was too close to Harold’s prefered aliases. Shaw checked the obituary.

Grace. Which means this was where Harold had to let her think he was dead. Most of the local papers carried headlines about a Nathan Ingram though. Seems he was a bigshot computer programmer.

The lightbulb went on for Sameen.

Harold’s money had to come from a company. Finch hated schmoozing. Just as Reese and Shaw were Finch’s eyes and ears in the field, so too must have been this Ingram guy. Shaw would bet a bottle of fine whiskey that Ingram helped Harold build The Machine (or Earnest).

So, the bombardment couldn’t have been random terrorists. Not if Harold _**and**_ Ingram were caught in its web.

Shaw went back to the memorial list of those injured or dead. Sure enough a journalist was among those listed. A quick check showed her that neither Ingram nor the reporter needed to ride that ferry to work or back home.

So, Ingram and Harold were going public about Earnest on the same day a supposed terrorist blew up their meeting place. Shaw didn't believe in coincidence. Somehow, her former bosses found out that their golden goose of illegal intel was about to dry up. They probably staged that terror attack.

Those bastards. People weren’t disposable when they still had usefulness: especially someone as knowledgeable and moral Harold Finch.

Shaw heard someone clanking pots and pans in the kitchen. Her stomach growled. She tiptoed out of her room and saw Reese preparing breakfast, coffee brewing on the counter. Shaw might have been able to sneak up on him if not for Bear woofing at her in greeting.

“You’re ruining my entrance, Sexy.” She scratched his ears as John looked over. He was in his bed clothes, hair a mess, but a gun in the waistband. Shaw approved. She went to get a cup of strong coffee, sat on a stool at the bar, and contemplated how to ask her questions.

By the time her over-easy eggs, crispy bacon, and tower of french toast arrived in front of her, she had a plan. “Thanks.”

As casually as she could she asked, “Is Harold in the shower?”

Reese paused in sipping his double shot. “Uh, yeah. He’ll be here in about ten minutes if you're going to talk about something you’d rather he not hear.”

Shaw shoveled a heaping of eggs and bacon into her mouth. Reese got her sometimes. It was refreshing.

Once she swallowed she said, “I figured out that Finch was in the ferry bombing with Ingram on the very day they were going public. What I want to know is why would those circumstances make him…”

She paused, trying to come up with the right way to say it. Finally she shrugged and just went with her gut. “Why would he be ashamed of them?”

John’s shoulders relaxed. Shaw had been able to grasp the emotional side of this issue. She was growing.

John leaned against the counter, took a quick look over at the master bedroom door and said, “Ingram started working the Numbers first. He was sloppy, having The Numbers sent directly to his phone or laptop. It was traceable. Harold freaked out. He demanded Ingram stop. So instead Ingram went to the papers. At the last minute Harold decided to join him.”

Shaw blinked at Reese as she chewed another mound of food. It wasn’t clicking for her.

Before she could ask, John let her off the hook. “Harold feels that he ignored the Irrelevants, forcing Ingram to come to the attention of the wrong people. Harold is convinced that if he had stopped arguing with Ingram, coming up with a workable solution to the Irrelevants then Ingram would be alive. Harold's scars are to him a reminder that he was complicit in not only the death of his best friend and former lover, but all those hundreds of people; at the ferry and on the list.”

Shaw took a deep gulp of coffee. “Including your Jessica.”

John bit his lip, looked away, but nodded. The door creaked open and John went over to the sink to hide his face until he could compose himself. Shaw just mumbled, “Morning, Finch.”

Dapper as ever with just a slightly more cautious gait, Harold Finch greeted his companions, “Good morning, Ms. Shaw, Mr. Reese. What smells so lovely?”

John was finally able to turn around and smile at his husband. “French toast.” John filled two plates, placing one in front of Harold along with a cup of green tea.

“Thank you, John,” Their Handler said tightly as his back must have twinged when he got on the stool. Not that most people could tell, but Reese and Shaw noticed everything about their boss. Bear came over to rest his head on the dangling foot of Harold’s good leg. Bear wasn’t a slouch about Harold’s condition either.

After breakfast they discussed the new Number.

~ * ~

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have completed this work in my drafts. The word count got away from me so instead of five chapters it is now six.


	5. Glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaw attempts to make a point.

~ * ~

The case was simple. John made contact with the Number, trying to determine Victim or Perp status. Shaw kept her distance with the sniper rifle on rooftops. Harold remained in the library doing as much research as he could.

The two years of getting it mostly right before Shaw joined had Finch and Reese running like a well oiled machine- pun intended. The addition of Shaw actually raised their success rate. They had a larger view of the field with Reese receiving fewer surprises, ambushes, and injuries.

Shaw was there to pick up the slack from any blind spots: both tactical and emotional. Reese had a habit of assuming people who reminded him of Jessica or Finch were victims. Shaw considered everyone a threat to her and the team. It balanced out nicely.

Bear was where he could do the most good at this time. He was beside Finch giving support. Bear was truly a service dog in every sense. He could disarm an assailant, protect his team, and keep Harold psychologically grounded.

The aftermath of both abductions by Root were still being worked through by Finch. He had a habit of pretending he was fine in front of the humans. However with Bear, Harold was always honest. He didn’t feel a need to perform for the canine. In addition, Bear could pick up on cues that humans couldn’t.

If Harold was starting to get panicked or upset Bear would be there to give support. Once in the middle of a heated discussion between Harold and John, Bear trotted over to Finch, plopping his strong meds onto the floor at his feet. It was a not-so-subtle hint that Harold was irritable mainly because he was in pain.

Shaw adored Bear, but she knew without a doubt that Bear was John’s dog. As Harold was John’s husband that made the beloved dog _their_ child not Shaw’s new roommate. Shaw herself was content to be the ‘ _Fun Aunt_ ’.

It was by unspoken agreement (or really a loud, yelled about, enforced policy hammered out after Root went into the mental hospital) that Harold was never without a bodyguard anymore. Either Reese, Shaw, or Bear was with him at all times. Bear wore his service vest daily now, even having a tactical vest to protect him in a firefight.If for some reason they needed Bear in the field then Harold was handed over to Carter and Fusco.

Did Harold resent being bandied about like a doll? Yes.

Did Shaw, Reese, Bear, or the Detectives care? Not one bit.

~ * ~

Four days of uncertainty came to a head with the Number safely on their way to Arizona and the Perp locked up with only minor knee injuries.

The Team was exhausted, but hadn’t needed to reach out to the Detectives. Carter and Fusco had jobs and families so they were used sparingly now that Reese had Shaw as back-up.

Finch, Reese, Bear, and Shaw were enjoying a post mission dinner for a debrief and much needed nutrition around the improvised dining table at The Library. They were enjoying some delicious beef roast with au jus gravy, potatoes, carrots, celery, and a nice Burgundy wine.

Shaw had something she wanted to say: _that was obvious even to Bear_. That she was attempting to phrase it gently and politely was frightening to the group. If Shaw felt the need to watch her words then it must be something nobody wanted to hear.

Finally, she cleared her throat. Finch and Reese sat up straighter, bracing themselves. “I’ve finished that piece of crap that Root dreamed up. She had The Library compromised and we had to split off into separate identities. Somehow you’re smart enough to build Earnest, but too stupid to keep The Library and us safe from Samaritan.”

Harold quirked his lips, but remained silent.

John looked offended. “We just run? Samaritan’s able to find what even Earnest couldn’t without Harold's permission? As if this place weren’t wired like Fort Knox?”

Reese turned to his husband with anger directed at Root. “Seriously Finch, Root is Coo-Coo if she thinks that an AI that was never trained, that only existed for a few nano-seconds before it had to be shelved could garner information from CCTV or cell towers that would endanger us.”

Reese looked over at Shaw then back to Harold. “Every image of us has been scrubbed ten times over with your program. There isn’t even footage of us entering Government facilities. Earnest has been programmed to erase every trace of us that ever existed including on paper thanks to a few agents he recruited for field work outside New York.”

Harold reached over the table to hold John’s hand in a soothing manner. “I know that, you know that, but in order for Ms. Groves to become the Savior of her New Dystopian Cyber World she has to find a way to incapacitate us thus allowing her to swoop in and fix our mess. It’s the only way she could ingratiate herself into the Team. We must first need her in order to want her around.”

Reese was partially mollified. He resolved to himself to read the rest of the manuscript on his own to see exactly what Root thought of them. It was important to Harold so it was important to John.

Shaw smirked at them but only said, “Well frankly Root has a very low opinion of us anyway. For someone who supposedly has eyes for me she thinks I’m nothing more than a nice ass and mindless violence.”

Reese murmured, “I thought that was just her reaction to me.”

Shaw snorted in agreement. “She’s one of those smarty-pants types that regard physical and athletic pursuits to be for the ignorant grunts of the world. So that includes me. Funny enough though, Root makes herself just as good in combat as me. Wonder how that happened?”

Harold rolled his eyes. “Wish fulfillment fantasy. She wants to be indispensable to us so she needs to be as good as John in the field and as good as me with code.”

Shaw tilted her head left and right in agreement then said, “Well it makes me think. See, Root feels like she’s another form of you. You’re her paternal soulmate or whatever. So does that mean you think of me as nothing, but ignorant, amoral, and violent muscle?”

~ * ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter to go. Thank you for taking this journey with me.


	6. Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaw make a point that is very pointy.

~ * ~

Harold raised his head in bafflement. “Of course not. I had hope that you understood that I hold you in high esteem. You and Mr. Reese have a special skill set that requires intelligence, dedication, years of practice, and a deep understanding of the human body especially your own. In addition, you have the experience to temper your training with wisdom. Finally, you are a medical doctor. No one can say you don’t have the knowledge needed to save a life. You are exceptional—”

Shaw interrupted. “Yeah okay I get it, but what about all the awful things I’ve done? I mean I killed people without question. I killed that guy who built the warehouse Earnest used. He did nothing to deserve being executed.”

Harold leaned forward, placing both of his delicate hands on the table. “You and Mr. Reese were doing what you thought would make the world better. You weren’t killing someone for personal gain or to get rich like Ms. Groves. You genuinely thought that doing something horrible would keep the most people alive and safe.”

Harold leaned back, placing his hands in his lap. “When you suspected otherwise you did your best to leave. Which resulted in a bullet to the stomach for you and John. You both nearly died trying to do the morally correct thing.”

Shaw nodded. “Because we did whatever we could to save as many lives as possible. We also protected other people from having to make those terrible decisions. So we’re what? Noble in your eyes?”

“Yes.” Harold bowed his head once in a show of respect.

Shaw shifted in her seat and looked at Bear. She scratched his ears as she said, “So, how come when you did the same thing with The Machine and the Irrelevants list you’re ashamed of it?”

Harold was taken aback. He didn’t get a chance to answer as Shaw kept going. “When you found out your handlers were using your creation immorally and you tried to stop them; you feel guilty you didn’t do it sooner. When you got injured for trying to leave you feel like you got Ingram killed, hurt Grace, and ruined countless lives.”

Harold got his mouth working. “It’s not the same.”

Shaw looked at him with disbelief. “Those scars from the ferry bombing are just like this one.”

She lifted her shirt to show the healed wound in her side from Wilson’s gun. “I got this because Cole found out what they were doing and they tried to stop us. Reese got two belly wounds for two similar situations. That makes us people you respect right? But you doing the same exact thing and getting injured for it is shameful though.”

Harold sputtered while John smiled and said, “She’s got you there Finch.”

Harold looked peevishly at John then turned to Shaw. “ _I_ should have known better.”

Shaw shrugged. “Me too, and Reese as well, but you don’t think we should feel guilty.”

Harold pressed his lips together in consternation. “You did the best you could in a bad situation.”

Reese and Shaw said together, “So did you.”

Harold flustered and shot back, “I’m not a soldier. I’m just tech support.”

Shaw whispered, “So was Cole.”

The room got silent for a few heartbeats then Shaw continued in a stronger voice, “And you made sure he received his medals for valor. What makes you think you deserve differently?”

Harold stuttered, “I, I…”

Shaw stood up and removed something from the pocket of her hoodie. It was a jewelry case about four inches long and two inches wide, an inch or more deep. She handed it to Finch. “You might not think so, but you deserve this just as much as me if not more.”

With that Shaw left quickly to go home to her apartment. An apartment that unlike whatever Root’s crazy brain conjured up was furnished and protected by Harold’s security system. He had given it to her shortly after she had agreed to join the team full time. He wanted her safe. That’s all Harold ever wanted for anyone: to be safe and happy.

~ * ~

Back at The Library Harold held the box away from him as if it were a bomb. He looked over at John with widened eyes that bulged with suspicion and surprise.

John patted his arm. “Open it. Shaw would never do anything to harm Bear or you for that matter.”

Harold dipped his head to stare at the velvet box. He lifted the hinged lid. Inside was a Purple Heart ribbon.

It was obvious that this was one of Shaw’s own medals. Somehow she had hidden them away- most likely burying them- in order to keep them safe after her supposed death. Harold’s throat got tight with emotions and his eyes watered. “She shouldn’t… I don’t deserve this.”

John scooted his chair closer, placing his arm around Harold’s bent shoulders remembering the bruises that were yellowing under the tailored suit. “She thinks you do. For what it’s worth: so do I.”

Harold’s voice cracked. “I’m just a computer hacker.”

“So was Cole,” John rasped. “You gonna tell Shaw that Cole didn’t serve his country?”

Harold placed the box on the table, gathering his pocket square. He blew his nose after wiping his eyes. He returned his glasses to his nose and picked the box up reverently. “You two fight dirty.”

John leaned forward and kissed Harold sweetly. “That’s what you pay us for Finch.”

~ * ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Insigne Bellicae Laudis is Latin for Medal of Honor or "Military Medal of Merit"  
> Thank you all for reading and commenting.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Blue_Finch ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Finch/pseuds/Blue_Finch/works)for another awesome Beta Read.
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